Chuck vs The Fallen Angel and his friends
by Sameuspegasus
Summary: Intel has been received that the new Supernatural video is going to be used to distribute dangerous information. While undercover at the launch Chuck and Morgan notice some people who seem out of place. Slightly AU post-S5 Supernatural.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own anyone.**

**AN: I apologise if this is an in accurate description of a game launch. I have never been to one. Also, I should be finishing my House/Supernatural fic, but I couldn't get this out of my head. It will be quite short.**

"We have received new intel that an unknown arms dealer is using video games to distribute encoded information pertaining to the whereabouts of illicit weapons of mass destruction. Should this information fall into the wrong hands, the results would be catastrophic, not only for this country, but for the world. Chuck, your new mission is to obtain the identity of the dealer, and prevent the information reaching its intended recipients. You and Morgan will go undercover at the launch of the latest of the encoded games. Question anyone who looks suspicious, and at all costs, prevent the game going on sale. I look forward to hearing your results." General Beckman looked at Chuck austerely, and reached forward to turn off her screen.

"Wait, general – what is our cover going to be? You haven't told us what video game it is," Chuck interrupted.

"The video game is called Supernatural. You will go as fans who like to dress up as the characters – LARPers, I believe they are called. Chuck, you will be calling yourself Sam. Morgan, you will be Dean. Sarah and Casey will be there as staff members."

"Supernatural!" Morgan exclaimed enthusiastically. "We've been waiting for that to come out for months. It takes up where the books left off. You can choose to be Sam or Dean or the Angel Castiel, and you have to avert the apocalypse by killing the four horsemen and using their rings..." He rambled on, oblivious to the warning growl that was beginning to emanate from Casey. General Beckman turned off her screen.

"Why do you get to be Dean?" complained Chuck. He saw Casey roll his eyes. "Well, gotta go back upstairs now... work to do. Computers to fix, and suchlike."

XXXXXX

Two days later, Chuck and Morgan entered the building where the launch party for the game was being held. It was relatively small, with giant screens featuring the game on all the walls, and posters of the characters in any spare space. Morgan was waxing on about the advanced graphics the game was reported to have, and the excellent character development he had read about in online spoilers.

"But isn't it kind of strange that they would put out a game now? I thought the books had stopped being published because the readership was too low," Chuck said, trying to be professional and think like a spy. What he really wanted to do was rush over to one of the playing stations and have a go. The books were fantastic, and it looked like the game had easily maintained the standard.

Chuck looked around for anyone who looked suspicious. Most of the people attending were in pairs of one tall man and one short, wearing a leather jacket. There were a few girls, mostly dressed as sexy angels or demons. This was a hardcore fan base. Most of them probably read one of the books at least once a week, and spent the rest of their time playing video games. It was hard to imagine any of them as dangerous arms dealers.

Wait – there, standing by one of the big screens on the other side of the room. These three men looked different. Two of them were dressed like Sam and Dean, and the other was wearing a suit with a trench coat. But they were too big. Too tough looking. Muscular. They were handsome too, and not the kind of handsome that was hidden under a bad haircut and too many hours playing World of Warcraft. They looked out of place. And a trench coat, inside, in California? That was odd in anyone's book.

"I think we should check those guys out," said Chuck, inclining his head towards them, and dragging Morgan away from the action figurines.

XXXXXXX

"They seem to have exaggerated your musculature," Castiel commented to Dean, indicating the image labelled 'Dean' on the screen. He wasn't wrong. The avatar would have been an exaggeration of Arnold Schwarzenegger's musculature. Dean glared at Cas anyway.

"Dude, you're wearing a dress."

"What's wrong with that?"

"You're a dude. Only chicks wear dresses. And what did we say about personal space?"

Cas took a step back, and didn't reply. Dean ignored the slightly guilty feeling this gave him.

"Well, maybe they didn't get us _quite_ right," said Sam, looking at the character that was meant to be him. It almost reached the second floor window of the burning house in the background, and was even more muscular than Dean. It carried a large knife, and apparently completed the whole journey from the release of Lucifer to the end of the apocalypse without a shirt on. "At least no one will recognise us."

"Where's Chuck? I think we need to have a little chat," Dean said, glancing around the room. "Oh, there's Becky. Let's ask her." He set off, weaving through the crowd.

"Uhh, I think I'll look over there," said Sam, who seemed strangely reluctant to spend any time in Becky's company. He walked away in the opposite direction, slipping surreptitiously through a door marked 'staff only'.

Castiel was left alone, unsure what to do. Dean got annoyed when he stayed too close, and Sam hadn't seemed to need him either. He felt useless. Being human was hard. He watched the screen in fascination. It really was a very unrealistic portrayal of him, he decided. As Dean would say, very chick-like. He was dressed all in white, with feathery white wings, and a glowing halo. If h had still been an angel, he would have put a stop to this abomination. But he wasn't. He stood dejectedly, with his hands at his sides, and waited for Sam and Dean to come back.

XXXXXX

The suspicious-looking men were closely examining the screen. Searching for a code? The one in the trench coat said something, and the shorter tough guy glared at him. His reply made the trench-coated one step back. Excellent, dissention in the ranks. Casey's voice came through Chuck's earpiece, telling him not to approach too closely, in case they were scared off. He paused at a display of comics based on the game, not far from the possible arms dealers.

Chuck picked up a comic, trying to listen unobtrusively to their conversation. Morgan was deep in conversation with a young woman, dressed as an angel in a surprising immodest outfit. Chuck cringed as Morgan's attempts to flirt crackled through his earpiece. He imagined Casey growling and turning his off. He flicked through the graphic novel. It was really very good. Then: "Chuck," one of the suspects said. Chuck looked up, but it was too late to see who had said it. They were all moving off in opposite directions, except Trench Coat, who stayed, gazing at the screen unhappily.

Chuck pretended to scratch his ear, whispering into his CIA-issue watch: "They've split up. One of them said my name. I've lost two of them, but one is still here. I haven't flashed on anyone, though."

"Go and talk to the one you can see. Try to get him to come to the bar with you, without raising suspicion." Sarah told him. Even the sound of her voice over an earpiece made him smile goofily.

Trench coat was still standing by the screen. He seemed unsure of what to do without his colleagues. Chuck approached, and looked at the screen, inspecting it for obvious code phrases, hoping for a flash. Nothing happened.

"Looks like a great game, huh?" Chuck grinned at the man.

"It is an inaccurate representation of the truth." He had an odd, barely detectable accent, and spoke in a strangely stilted monotone. He stared at Chuck. It was a little bit creepy.

"Who did you come as? I'm Sam."

"I am Castiel. You do not look like Sam."

Chuck looked at him in surprise. Maybe they were just fans. It took a pretty serious fan to play someone who hadn't been in the books. Although he didn't seem like he was dressed as an angel. He didn't even have wings. Wait, he didn't look like Sam? He had picked his costume very carefully. He looked at the screen. Ok, maybe he didn't look like Sam.

"Hey, why don't you come and have a drink with me and my friend, we were just heading over to the bar, but he got a little distracted," Chuck tried to sound friendly.

"Stop hitting on him," growled Casey, in Chuck's ear. Chuck winced.

"I am waiting for my friends." Castiel said, severely.

"Say, you don't sound like you're from around here... where are you from?" Chuck asked.

"Nice, Chuck, not obvious at all," Casey commented sarcastically.

"Heaven," replied Castiel.

"Homesick? I guess we all feel that way sometimes if we're a long way from home."

Castiel seemed to think about something for a moment, and suddenly decided.

"I will have that drink now."

XXXXXX

A strange man was talking to Castiel. Castiel did not speak to anyone except Dean and Sam, usually. It made him uncomfortable. This man was dressed as Sam, as Sam had been described in the Winchester gospel. He kept asking questions, and trying to make Castiel leave the place where he was waiting for the Winchesters. He was acting suspiciously. But then he remembered what Dean had said about personal space. He wasn't Dean's angel anymore, and couldn't just follow him around. Dean said it was ruining his chances with 'the ladies'. Castiel needed to make friends of his own. Maybe this man was just being friendly, and Castiel was misreading it because he was not used to being human. So he followed the man pretending to be Sam to the bar.

'Sam' kept up a long run of chatter as they weaved through the crowds to the bar. He talked more than the real Sam, and laughed more. He talked about how he worked fixing computers, and how his sister was a doctor and had gone to Africa. It seemed to Castiel like a very peaceful life. Halfway over to the bar, he stopped and signalled frantically to a small, bearded man who was dressed as Dean, and appeared to be trying desperately to impress a woman dressed as an angel. Castiel was disgusted by her. No true servant of heaven would dress in such a way. Having failed to get his friend's attention, 'Sam' lead the way to the bar.

At the bar, a beautiful blonde woman leaned over the counter to hand him a beer. There was a strange fluttering in his stomach. He took a large gulp of beer. The pretty face blurred, and he swayed, falling back into his new friend's waiting arms, as everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

"Where's Chuck?" Dean asked Becky, roughly. He was not pleased with this turn of events. Didn't you have to get permission before you turned someone's life into a video game?

"He's right there," she told him, pointing behind him. He turned around just in time to see the prophet give up trying to tell his girlfriend in sign language not to give him up.

Chuck tried to slip away, but Dean grabbed him by the arm. "We need to have a talk."

"Don't you like the game?" Chuck asked, trying to look innocent.

"What happened to not exploiting our lives for profit? We said no more books. And don't point out that this isn't a book. This is worse than the books. And they don't even look like us."

"Now Dean," Chuck began, trying to placate him, "Can we just talk about this?"

"No," said Dean, "We have to stop this going to the stores. You just don't get what it's like having your privacy invaded like that. I spent ages telling myself that it wasn't your fault, you didn't know. But really you're just a douche bag who's only out for himself!"

"It wasn't my idea!" squeaked Chuck, trying to wriggle out of Dean's grasp.

"Whose idea was it, then?" Dean asked, angrily, looking suspiciously at Becky.

"Some guy came and offered me a million dollars to let him make a game out of my unpublished manuscripts. A million bucks, Dean! I'll give you and Sam a share, I swear."

Dean examined him. He was wearing an unusually fancy suit. "And you didn't think that was strange? Some guy you don't know giving you a million bucks for your unpublished notes? You're not even that good of a writer."

"A million bucks, Dean. Do you know what it's like being a writer who can't publish his work? It's like being unemployed but without the government handouts."

"What was his name? Did you even ask?"

"Of course I asked. He showed me ID, and everything. It was something foreign-sounding. Russian, I think. Or Polish."

"Oh, he showed you ID. Because no-one ever has fake ID." Dean glanced up at that moment, and his eyes slid over to the screen where he had left Cas. Cas was gone. "Crap," said Dean. "We'll continue this later. And if we can't stop it, we want half the money."

He hurried over to the spot where he had last seen Cas, peering around as he went. He did a circuit of the room. He checked the bathrooms (men's and women's). And behind the bar. Cas was nowhere to be seen. He took out his cell phone and pressed the speed dial.

XXXXX

Across the street, in the secure underground facility below the BuyMore, Chuck and Casey were questioning a groggy Castiel.

"What do you know about the information being passed through the game?" Casey demanded aggressively.

"It is wrong," Castiel replied evenly.

"In what way?"

"I do not wear dresses. Dean is not as muscular as it implies. Sam sometimes wears a shirt."

"Do not mess with me. I have ways of making people talk," growled Casey, narrowing his eyes.

"You know nothing of torture. I have been to Hell itself."

"Uh, Casey? Maybe he's not an arms dealer? He seems really into this whole gaming thing." Chuck put in, nervously. Casey glared at him.

Metallica's Enter Sandman began to play. Castiel had let Dean pick his ringtone.

Chuck answered it without speaking. A voice erupted from it urgently.

"Cas? Where are you man, I've been looking everywhere? I know I said that thing about personal space, but this is ridiculous! Cas? Cas!"

"Dean?" Castiel called out. He sounded strange raising his voice, like he didn't do it often.

"This isn't Cas, is it? What have you done with him? If you hurt him, I'll kill you!" Chuck held the phone away from his ear.

"Death threats," Casey smirked, "That's enough to bring him in."

"We are holding him in the BuyMore across the street," Chuck said into the phone, "Come alone." He hung up.

XXXXXX

Why would someone kidnap Cas? It didn't make sense. The apocalypse was over. There shouldn't be any demons gunning for Cas anymore. And anyway, angels and demons didn't tend to surreptitiously kidnap someone. They liked the big effects. But Dean didn't stop to think. Cas had looked after him when he had been his angel, and now it was Dean's turn to look after Cas. He made sure his gun was loaded and all his knives were in their sheaths, and ran across the road to the BuyMore. He knocked on the door of the dark store.

The man who came to open it was enormous. Not as big as Sammy, but in the same range. Dean was pretty sure he'd seen him working security at the game launch. He looked grim.

"Where's Cas?" Dean asked. The big guy pulled out a gun, and inclined his head in the direction he wanted Dean to go.

Nobody pulls a gun on Dean Winchester.

Dean grabbed the gun from the side, making sure to stay out of the firing line. He tried to wrestle it away from the man, but he had to admit it – the guy was strong. He threw him off with some sort of fancy martial arts move. _Gotta learn that, _Dean thought, as he crashed into the window display. He scrambled up, diving for the gun again, and somewhere, in the back of his mind, he realised that if the guy was going to shoot him, he would have done it right then. Dean tackled him around the waist, and together they flew into a shelf of merchandise, sending CDs clattering to the floor. Dean had him pinned for a moment, but then tough guy pulled his knee up, hard, right into Dean's groin. Dean collapsed on the floor, curling up. His eyes felt a little bit wet, but he definitely wasn't crying. He felt his hands pulled forcefully behind his back, and the cold steel of handcuffs encircle his wrists.

"Alright, alright, I know I'm handsome, but you didn't need to attack me."

XXXXXXX

"Time to go, smartass," Casey growled at the younger man, pushing him towards the staffroom, with its secret door. He was a bit disappointed. It had been too easy. He liked a good fight every now and then. It was good for the soul.

Casey shoved Dean down the stairs and handcuffed him to the table beside Castiel.

"Dude. This would be a really good time for you to use your angel juice. If you had any left."

"Angel juice?" Casey growled. "Planning to blow something up, boys?"

"I fell from Heaven for you, Dean. You could show some gratitude," Castiel said in the same flat tone he had used all evening.

"Casey, I really think they aren't who we are looking for," Chuck said, worriedly. Then he looked at Dean's face for the first time, and flashed. _Mug shot. Police reports. Murdered woman. Prison escape. Sweet black car. Knives. More knives. Guns. Fire. Dug-up graves. Exceptionally good-looking giant. Explosion. _"Or maybe they are. Dean Winchester, why are you here?"

"Your friend here has a powerful kick to the nads."

"Dean," said Castiel, seriously, "They think we are selling people's arms."

Dean looked confused for a second, then realised. "Weapons, Cas, they think we are selling nuclear weapons."

"We no longer need weapons, Dean. The apocalypse is over."

Casey groaned. A nut-job and a psychopath. Great.

XXXXXXX

_Meanwhile, across the road at the game launch..._

"A secret agent? Really? I love a man of mystery..." The gorgeous angel purred in Morgan's ear. "Why don't we go somewhere more private and get to know each other better?" She beckoned provocatively. Morgan smiled excitedly as he followed her through the door labelled "Staff Only".


	3. Chapter 3

Morgan's eyes widened. The hot angel had a knife. Suddenly, his casual mention of being a spy struck him as being ill-advised. He backed up against the wall of the empty room and yammered something about not really being a spy. _Crap._ Why hadn't he listened to Chuck? Obviously people kept being a spy a secret for a reason. He was not having fun. The angel advanced on him. The knife was tiny. Light from the single bulb above them sparkled off the diamonds that encrusted it. For a second Morgan wondered where she had been keeping it. Her costume left very little to the imagination. He shook himself. Now was not the time. _Think, Morgan._ _Ways to escape the scary hot chick with the knife. This would be a really good time for Chuck to do his whole bursting into the room to rescue the kidnapped friend thing. Or even Casey._ The door did not open. _Sarah?_ But still the scary angel advanced.

The room was suddenly very cold. A man Morgan hadn't noticed before was standing in the shadows. He wasn't doing anything, just standing there. Morgan willed him to help. He didn't. And because Morgan has a very short attention span, an active imagination and an addiction to video games, he noticed that the man looks a lot like one of the ghosts Sam and Dean had to fight in the _Supernatural_ game that was being launched.

The knife was at his throat now. He had changed his mind. This woman wasn't hot at all.

"Who are you working with?" She hissed.

_Don't give Chuck away. Don't give Chuck away. _"I'm not a spy! I'm not a spy – myself, I'm working by myself!" He yelped as she dug the tip of the knife into his neck.

"Spies never operate alone." She was quite menacing for someone dressed as a slutty angel video game character.

"I do. I ah- I went rogue," was all Morgan could think to stammer. The knifepoint twisted. He could feel a drop of blood oozing down his neck. Also, a panic attack coming on. _Come on, Chuck!_

"Who are you passing your information to?"

_Come on – yes!_ The door opened. Morgan looked up, ready to grin in relief. His face fell. It was the giant guy Chuck had gone over to check out. If he'd escaped from Chuck, he must have some pretty awesome fighting skills. Morgan went pale. Well, paler. Why did everyone want to kill him today? _Oh well, better to die an awesome death as a spy than die of old age as a sales assistant at a BuyMore. _He made a grab for the knife.

XXXXXX

The idiot was grabbing for the knife. Damn kid didn't stand a chance. The slutty angel seemed human, if a bit psychotic, while the little guy with the knife at his throat was definitely human. The room was freezing through, and Sam's EMF meter was going nuts in his pocket. No time to investigate, though. Time to wade in and rescue the poor fool, who had probably just thought he was going to get lucky with someone who was way- Sam looked Morgan over – way out of his league.

"Looks like your partner's here," the woman whispered to Morgan, who took advantage of the distraction to kick her hard in the knee. She slashed out with the knife.

Sam grinned. It looked like the little guy had decided to go down fighting. He rushed her, grabbing her knife-arm by the wrist, and twisting it behind her back until she dropped the knife. She spun around, her stilettoed heel slamming into his stomach. He doubled over, clutching the wound it left. He hated stilettos. The bitch made another grab for the little guy, and missed. Sam looked up. _Crap. _The little dude had pulled out a tranq gun and was waving it wildly.

"Do not-" Sam began, but it was too late. He'd fired. Sam only just rolled out of the way. Evil lady was making a move for the gun now. In one swift move, Sam kicked her legs out from under her, knocking her down. Rolling over, he grabbed her knife from the floor, and knelt over her, holding it to her throat.

And then he flew across the room. He landed hard against the wall, cracking the plaster (and maybe his ribs). All the air rushed from his lungs as he slid to the floor. A man stood over him, middle aged and wearing an elegant business suit. He picked Sam up, and flung him across the room again. Ice crept across the window. Sam's EMF wailed.

Sam recovered more quickly this time, reaching into his jacket pocket for the flick-blade knife he always kept there – one blade silver, one iron. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it sooner. He flicked out the iron blade. When the spirit came for him this time, he slashed it with the knife, and again, and it flickered, disappearing. It would be back, Sam knew. They had to get out of there.

The little bearded man was doing surprisingly well. The tranq gun had thankfully been forgotten, and lay abandoned in the corner as the angel and the gaming nerd tried to scratch each other's eyes out. It seemed like the angel was getting sick of the messing around though, and was going for the kill. She swept her quarry's feet from under him, and as he lay on the floor, recovering, she held her stiletto heel to his temple.

Sam shot her with the tranq gun.

As Sam and Morgan dragged the unconscious woman from the room, the hot blonde lady from the bar who Dean had been eyeing earlier ran into them.

"What's going on, Morgan?" she asked.

"You know the guys Chuck pointed out? I don't think they're our guys," said Morgan.

Sam pulled out his phone.

XXXXX

"How do you know who I am?" Dean asked Chuck belligerently. "Friend of yours, Cas?"

"He is not my friend. Friends do not imprison each other. Except that one time. And that was for Sam's own good."

"I know he's not your friend, Cas. It just kind of seemed like he could see that my Dad ran off because he didn't like his job with the postal service."

These two made Chuck kind of nervous. They seemed to have their own language that consisted of cryptic statements and prolonged silent eye contact. Not to mention the whole presumed dead-fraudulent-grave robber-serial killer thing. And Trench Coat was just strange. Chuck was starting to think there was something to be said for reducing his gaming hours. He'd never met anyone more obsessed with their RPG.

Casey was getting frustrated. Chuck could see it. There had been that little spark of triumph when Chuck had flashed, but it was being replaced by annoyance as the interviewees closed ranks. Trench Coat wanted to answer the questions, or at least seemed not to realise that he shouldn't, but every time he would start to speak, he would look at Dean, and they would do the gazing into each other's eyes thing, and Cas would stop speaking.

"Sam, huh?" The glint came back into Casey's eyes. He had found a weakness in the shell. Dean stiffened every time the name was mentioned. Trench Coat didn't, but he was already so stiff it would be hard to tell.

"I'll bet Sam's the guy who was with you at the launch. I think we might have to bring him in for questioning, seeing as you two are playing dumb..."

"No, wait!" Dean was visibly upset by the idea of Sam being questioned. It would be handy having criminals who actually cared about each other. You could play them off each other to get what you wanted. _Chuck!_ Chuck admonished himself. _When did you start thinking like that? If someone threatened Ellie or Sarah or Morgan, imagine how horrible it would be._

"Wait a second, Casey," Chuck started. Before he could continue, the faint strains of AC/DC's Shook Me All Night Long permeated the air.

He opened the cell phone. "Dean? Dean, dude, we gotta talk. Give whatever chick you're with the slip, and I'll meet you by the car in 5."


	4. Chapter 4

Casey had gone to capture Sam, leaving Chuck to guard Dean Winchester and Weird Trench Coat Guy.

Dean had become very angry when Casey had announced his intention, momentarily forgetting that he was handcuffed to the table, and trying to throw himself at Casey. But Casey was gone now, and Dean was still handcuffed to the table, a fact that Chuck was very glad of. Despite the flash and the record, he hadn't really seemed like the murderous type until Sam had been mentioned.

"So, if you aren't arms dealers, what are you doing in Burbank?" Chuck asked conversationally. Neither replied. They were too busy talking to each other. Maybe they were together. That would be weird. You didn't really think of serial killer-arms dealer-grave robbers having boyfriends.

"I swear, if he hurts my little brother, I'm gonna..." Dean spat angrily.

"Dean. Sam can take care of himself. He defeated Lu- the bad guy from down under, remember." Trench Coat – Cas – winked as he corrected himself. It looked unnatural.

"Cas. Don't wink."

"You wink all the time."

"Exactly. It works for me. It doesn't go with your whole _you should show me some respect_ thing. Holy tax accountants don't wink."

Chuck felt kind of bad. Casey had gone to ambush this poor guy's little brother. Dean might be at the top of the FBI wanted list, but he had the right idea about family. If someone tried to hurt Ellie, Chuck would be trying to rip off the handcuffs too. Wait – holy tax accountant? What a strange way to describe someone. It kind of fit, though.

"Why were you at the game launch?" Chuck asked more loudly.

"We're big fans of the characters. Particularly Dean. I mean, did you see the body on that guy?" Dean grinned at Chuck. _Definitely together,_ thought Chuck.

"He's joking. Castiel is clearly the best character." Cas contributed. Dean smirked.

XXXXX

Cas did not like Chuck. It struck him as underhanded to pose as a potential friend and then drug someone. Dean had had to rescue him _again_. It was getting embarrassing. He really missed his wings. If Castiel's powers had still been intact, this ridiculous man who did not seem to know what he was doing, but had known a mysterious amount about Dean just by looking at him, would be being smote _right now_. But Cas had lost his grace when he had defied Heaven to help his friend, and so they sat chained to a table, while the not-friend made pathetic attempts at small talk. And that other man, the big one – his treatment of Dean made Cas see red. He hoped Sam gave him hell.

The door to the underground facility slid open. The attractive blonde woman who had served Cas the drugged drink stepped through. Without looking, Cas could feel Dean's grin widen. He had put on his flirt face. The connection between Cas and Dean was one of the few things that had remained when Cas had fallen. Cas mentally sent Dean evil poisoner warnings, but Dean didn't seem to be paying attention.

The woman walked in backwards, carrying the feet-end of a limp body. At the other end, the small bearded man that Chuck had waved at struggled to keep the body's head from bashing against the ground.

Cas's opinion on Chuck warmed slightly when the Agent appeared agitated at the sudden entrance of his colleagues, carrying a body. "She's not dead is she? Please tell me she's not dead," said Chuck, crossing the room to help them down the stairs. "What happened?"

He cared for the blonde woman, Cas saw. He felt Dean's mental slump of disappointment as Chuck touched her in a way that indicated togetherness and love. Cas knew that that was what the clasp of the hand indicated, because Dean had objected strongly when he had tried to imitate the gesture as they sat in a diner once.

"Why don't you tell Chuck what happened, Morgan?" The blonde woman sounded annoyed with the little bearded man.

"Well," said Morgan, as they lay the woman on the floor, "It kind of seemed like she was into me, you know. Being a spy has really changed me. Made me more attractive to women, because before, this chick, she would have been way out of my league, and she was dressed like an angel. You don't expect angels to be the bad guys."

Castiel allowed himself a small smile at that. This man obviously had not read his bible properly.

Chuck groaned. "Oh no, Morgan, tell me you didn't use the 'I'm a secret agent' line on her."

"Of course not," said Morgan, but he wouldn't meet Chuck's eyes. Castiel automatically didn't trust him. Cas was a big believer in eye contact.

Across from him, Cas knew Dean was storing away "I'm a secret agent" for future use when 'picking up chicks'.

"Anyway," Morgan continued, pretending not to notice the look that flashed between Chuck and Sarah at hid denial of using the secret agent line, "we went into this empty room, and she pulled a huge knife on me, and she had me up against the wall, and was asking where my partner was, and I decided to go for it..." he rambled off into a long and enthusiastic description of a fight. Castiel found it difficult to follow, and suspected most of it was made up. He would have to ask Dean about it later.

Finally, Morgan reached a part that caught Castiel's attention. He saw Dean lift his head and listen attentively as Morgan described the scene.

"And the door burst open, and this huge guy barrelled in. I mean, he was a giant. Like a Yeti. Or Shrek. Only ridiculously good-looking. And I totally thought I was dead, I mean, he looked like he could kill a man just by looking at him. Only he attacked the hot angel chick. And he was totally winning, and had her on the ground, but then it went really cold, and this guy who was standing in the corner the whole time just picked him up and threw him across the room. So the sasquatch was getting wailed on by this guy, and I had to fight the angel."

"Wow, Morgan, you won a fight!" Chuck was excited for his friend. It seemed as though Morgan didn't win many fights. Cas was glad that team free will during the apocalypse hadn't included him. The world would certainly have gone to fire.

"Well, kind of. I distracted her, and the giant shot her with my tranq gun."

"Well, it's good that you got her, but what about the other guy?"

"He just disappeared. I swear, he disappeared into thin air."

Cas looked at Dean. Dean looked at Cas. It seemed Sam had discovered a spirit. It was time to get out of there.

XXXXXX

They hadn't warned Casey that Dean's 'little brother' was in fact ginormous. Bigger than Casey. Very few people were bigger than Casey. Casey grunted. It didn't matter. He was probably just as much of a moron as his brother and his brother's weirdo boyfriend. He inched closer, his hand on his gun.

XXXXXX


	5. Chapter 5

Sam wasn't ready for Casey. NSA stealth training was good like that. He was so preoccupied by the spirit and the strange fight between the bearded dwarf and the skanky chick with the mean high heels that he didn't notice anyone creeping up on him as he waited for Dean. The first inkling he had that someone was behind him was the all-too-familiar touch of a gun to his back. _Crap._ He stiffened and held very still. He may have defeated Lucifer, but if there was anything his participation in the family business had taught him, it was that gunshot wounds hurt like a bitch. Especially at close range.

"Sammy, is it?" Casey grunted. There was no-one else in the car park. Sam mentally kicked himself. Attacking spirits should make you more alert, not less. Way to be monumentally stupid, Sam. Dean would never let him hear the end of this.

"It's Sam," growled Sam.

"Come on." Sam could feel the undertone in the man's voice. It was saying _moron._

No-one pulls a gun on Sam Winchester.

Sam let himself be nudged him the direction of the BuyMore. Walking slowly, he sized up the situation. The man behind him was big. Very nearly as tall as Sam, and probably more muscular. He had a gun. He had patted Sam down for weapons, and consequently Sam had no gun, and his double-bladed knife was gone. The search hadn't reached the ankles, though, because that would have meant bending down and relinquishing the control of the gun to the back. So Sam still had knives in his ankle sheaths. One silver, one iron. He didn't particularly want to use them, though. This guy seemed human. Demons didn't usually bother with guns. He hadn't been handcuffed, either – overconfidence on his abductor's part. There had been plenty of opportunity to murder him and escape undetected, yet the gun had not been fired. Sam would bet big money (and he wasn't usually the gambler of the family) that there had been instructions to take him alive.

A group of gamers were trailing out to their car. Witnesses. Sam smashed his foot into the guy's ankle with all the force he could muster, and turning, grabbed his gun-hand and shoved it sideways. He swung his fist into his abductors face.

The guy could fight, Sam would give him that. Solid punch. Some sort of martial arts training too. But still, on a good day, Sam was pretty sure he could take him. After all, he spent his whole life fighting evil, and had been known to take out three super-strength demons on his own. One solid kick and the guy was on the ground.

But Sam had forgotten that he was injured. The angel-bitch's heel had dealt him a fairly solid blow, and the deep wound in his side was bleeding freely once more – he had bandaged it at the car, but that had only protected it slightly. He could feel the blood flowing down his abdomen. His adversary had obviously seen it too, and took advantage of the distraction. In one smooth move, he swept Sam to the ground, rolling on top of him, and digging his knee into the wound.

Sam let out an involuntary yelp of pain. The guy rolled him over, and this time he handcuffed him.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Dude, I knew she was too hot to be at a Supernatural convention!" Dean remarked enthusiastically.

"She is blasphemous," said Cas, severely.

"Hot, though," Dean replied, before turning his attention to the secret agents. Those Bond movies had done some serious false advertising. Except for the chicks. Blondie and slutty angel were both easily hot enough to be Bond girls.

"Dean," Cas called him back to attention.

"I think we'll be off now. Lovely to meet you all, but it's time we were on our way, now you've caught the real bad guys." Dean made to stand up, but his handcuffs held him firmly to the table.

"You could be working with her. Arms dealers never work alone." The blonde one was suspicious of him. She seemed to be the boss. He didn't envy her looking after those idiots. Particularly the one that was dressed as him. Really, it was embarrassing.

"You know the sasquatch who saved your friend here's arse? That was my brother Sam. You can be pretty confident we aren't working with her. You should be thanking him, not sending the incredible hulk off to arrest him for no reason."

"You're wanted for murder! We can't just let a murderer go!" Chuck told him. He sounded a bit apologetic, but it didn't make Dean feel any better.

"I am getting impatient." That was Cas. Dean vividly remembered previous occasions on which Cas had become impatient. They had been unpleasant. He grinned.

"Use the force, Cas."

He got the head tilt and confused look in reply. It was kind of endearing, although Dean would never admit that.

"I have no force left, Dean. I fell."

Dean shook his head. "Dude, when we're outta here, we are so watching Star Wars. After we gank the ghost and stop the game launch, of course."

XXXXXXXXXX

Chuck had been watching this exchange with a perplexed look, but brightened at the mention of Star Wars. He just couldn't bring himself to think of this guy as a murderer. He was too nice to his friend, and cared too much about his brother. Not to mention his fantastic taste in movies. Unless – a horrible thought occurred to him –

"You're not talking about the new ones are you?"

"Dude. Are you serious? The new ones suck."

Morgan was just opening his mouth to put in his two cents when Sarah interrupted: "Chuck, Morgan, concentrate! She's waking up and we need to question her. And I'm not convinced those two aren't involved. What's taking Casey so long?"

Chuck looked at the woman on the floor. No flash. That didn't mean she wasn't an arms dealer, though, just that she wasn't in the system. He helped Sarah lift her into a chair and handcuff her to the table. They shackled her feet, too. Chuck really didn't want those stilettos thrashing out at him.

Sarah handed Chuck something. "This was on the floor in the room where she attacked Morgan. She was planning on slitting his throat with it. Anything?"

Chuck looked at the item in his hand. It was a small, bejewelled knife. He flashed. **Men in tuxedos, speaking Russian. Guns. More guns. Knives. Gorgeous women fighting with knives. Fuzzy photographs. A woman, slitting a man's throat. Blood in a chalice. More weapons. A missile.**

The flash ended abruptly. From a long way away, he heard Dean Winchester say: "What the hell is up with him? Has he got the weirdo psychic freak gene too?"

And then the door opened, and Casey shoved the injured Sam Winchester into castle. As Chuck saw his face for the first time, the flash hit him like a train.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: OK, so maybe it won't be that short. This story seems to be running away with me Thank you for your reviews, everyone. Let me know if you think the characters are going wrong. It's hard to stop my imagination embellishing them.**

"What is it, Chuck?" Sarah asked, momentarily distracted from checking the cuffs on the woman who had attacked Morgan.

"Sam Winchester – Y-you went to Stanford, right?" Chuck asked the man that Casey was marching down the stairs. Morgan wasn't wrong. The guy was huge. Chuck wouldn't mind being built like that.

Sam looked surprised for a second, but the expression was soon replaced by annoyance. "Why?" he asked.

Chuck turned back to Sarah. "He was on the list. You know, the one with me and Bryce. Only there was a fire and he left before they contacted him."

"What are you talking about? How do you know that stuff?" Sam asked, unnecessarily aggressively in Chuck's opinion, but then he was being held at gunpoint by a very grumpy NSA agent.

"They're spies, Sammy. It's pretty awesome. And that dude," Dean indicated with his head, "is one of your weirdo psychic buddies. Only different. He knows peoples secrets just by looking at them."

"No he doesn't, Dean. He didn't know I was an an-"

"Stop talking, Cas."

Sam broke in, "I think I figured out they were some sort of secret agents when they brought me to their secret underground bunker, Dean. Speaking of which, what are you doing here? Gaming nerd get the jump on you?"

"I came to rescue Cas," mumbled Dean, looking a little embarrassed.

Sarah, who had been listening to the exchange with fascination, spoke up again, refocusing the group on the current situation. "He was shortlisted for the CIA? In what capacity?"

"Field work. Apparently he has superb physical fitness, weapons training, a high capacity for knowledge retention, and a history of upholding false identities."

"How do you know that?" Sam demanded from where he had been seated on a bench on the other side of the room. Castle was getting smaller by the second. Four prisoners and 4 agents – well, three and a bit – there was barely room to move.

"CIA? Nice, Sammy! So much for running away to college to have a normal life. Wait, how _do_ you know that? There's no way anyone was watching us. We would have noticed." Chuck could see Casey's jaw clenching from the other side of the room. He made a mental note not to leave Casey alone with the talkative one. Despite the serial-killer thing, which was seeming less plausible by the second, Chuck quite liked Dean.

"Dude, CIA!" Morgan reminded him, apparently fully recovered from his brush with death, and as enthusiastic as ever about being a spy.

"On the contrary, Dean, I have been watching you since birth," Castiel commented seriously.

"What? You're just telling me this now? Please tell me you weren't watching when I... never mind..."

"I was always watching Dean."

"Great," said Dean.

_What the hell? _Chuck thought. Both of them were obviously completely insane. Maybe the FBI report was right about the murders. He was inclined to think that Trench Coat (he couldn't quite bring himself to call him Cas) was some sort of religious fanatic. But probably not involved in the arms deal. Chuck was pretty sure he'd heard something about not needing weapons because the apocalypse had been averted.

"Why was the CIA after me?" Sam asked. He at least seemed to be in full possession of his mental faculties. "Wait, Cas – You were watching the whole time? Why didn't you stop any of it? You could have saved Jess, and Dad, and so many people..."

"I am a warrior of God, not a guard dog," Castiel growled. For a second he looked dangerous. Terrifying, even. _Definitely a religious fanatic._

And then Cas added: "And I was not your angel." He looked at Dean and Dean looked back. His expression softened, and he seemed to be just a man again.

Casey cleared his throat impatiently, calling everyone's attention back to business. The unconscious woman was stirring.

XXXXXXXX

Being a spy was awesome. Nothing like almost being killed by a super hot weapons dealer to make you feel alive. Pity he'd had to be saved by the giant who seemed to have been picked for the CIA, but disappeared before he'd been called up. It would have been a way better story if Morgan had saved the giant. Although, Morgan had to admit the giant was pretty awesome. He had some serious fighting skills and an awesome flick-knife, and apparently a high tolerance for pain. If Morgan was bleeding that much from a stiletto wound to the abs, there was no way he'd still be standing up. He really was just as awesome as Sam in the Supernatural series. _Wait – _his brother called him Sammy. And his brother's name was Dean. And the guy in the trench coat was called Cas and claimed to be an angel. Wasn't the angel in the video game called Castiel? And they really seemed to believe the angel thing. And a fire? In the books, Sam's girlfriend died in a fire. Either these were some seriously dedicated LARPers, or they were the real thing. Morgan was inclined to believe the latter. Especially since seeing the see-through guy throw Sam across the room.

But there was no time for that now. They had a scary chick to interrogate.

Morgan watched. He wasn't allowed to question people yet. Apparently he was too easy to distract. But Casey was going to teach him. Right after he taught him how to shoot a gun, knock a guy out with a judo chop, and seduce someone for information. He watched as Chuck, Casey and Sarah huddled around their captive. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw the three guys, who had apparently recovered quickly from learning that Sam had missed his CIA call-up by days. They were having some sort of silent conversation consisting solely of head movements and facial expressions. They must be best friends, brothers. They had obviously spent a lot of time together, and probably had been through some tough times. Morgan understood. He and Chuck were like that sometimes. And he had always known that Chuck wasn't telling time everything in the three years he had been lying about his entire life.

"Who are you working for?" growled Casey.

The woman refused to speak.

"Arms dealers never work alone. Who are you passing information to? And why through the game?"

Still nothing. Casey was glaring daggers at her, giving her the look that always made Morgan suddenly find work to do in the other side of the BuyMore.

"We know you worked for Vladimir Martinov. We know you killed him with that knife," Chuck contributed. Morgan hadn't, but then Morgan never knew everything the others did. Sometimes he thought they were just humouring him by letting him help. He always dismissed the thought immediately, though. He was very helpful. Hadn't he been the one to catch out those guys in Europe when they went to get Chuck and Sarah back? And the time with the tiger - that had been awesome. And scary. But mostly awesome.

She still refused to say anything.

Morgan found his mouth moving of its own accord. "And who was the see-through guy who threw Sam across the room? He seemed pretty strong."

The Russian paled visibly. She was scared of the man.

"Maybe we should go find him," Morgan added, just for effect. He was awesome at interrogation.

"On it," announced a voice from the top of the stairs.

Everyone looked up.

"We'll see you guys later," Dean continued, and the three men disappeared through the open door.

XXXXXXX


	7. Chapter 7

Sam was looking at Dean with look number 283. The one that said 'if you hadn't stopped to make that witty and amusing comment, we could have escaped quietly and I wouldn't have bled all over the floor of the electronics store'. It had been an awesome exit, though. Totally worth it. And it wasn't entirely Dean's fault that Sam was dripping blood everywhere. Dean threw Sam a wad of gauze and some tape from the Impala's trunk, followed by a bottle of painkillers. Sam did some quick first aid on the stiletto wound in his side as Dean passed a shotgun and salt rounds to Cas, before loading his own gun.

While the CIA agents were gathered around the woman who had tried to kill the bearded one, Dean had surreptitiously unwound the thin piece of wire hidden under his silver ring, and used it to pick the lock on his handcuffs, before passing it to Cas. Cas was surprisingly good at lock picking, considering that up till a few months ago nothing short of a ring of sacred fire could stop him popping out of captivity. They had managed to sneak it across to Sammy without anyone noticing. These spies were worryingly oblivious to the activities of their prisoners. It concerned Dean slightly that they were in charge of national security. Quietly, they had slipped up the stairs, and Dean had punched in the code he had memorised on the way in. The door had opened easily. That was when Dean had stopped to make the comment.

The incredible hulk, as Dean had christened the enormous guy who had captured him, seemed to react badly to escaping prisoners. He had made a growling noise, deep in his throat, sounding for all the world like the next door neighbours' Rottweiler at that place in Alabama had done when it heard him coming in in the middle of the night when Dean was 16. He had leapt after them, barely impeded by the table Cas tipped in front of the door. He was quick on his feet and surprisingly spry for someone with that much muscle mass.

He had caught Sam by the arm, in the central aisle, and Sam had whirled around, punching him in the jaw and knocking him backwards.

Dean had run over to help, but the hot blonde chick had interceded. Hell of a fighter, she was. Obviously she had serious martial arts training. Cas had abandoned his efforts to break the bulletproof glass of the locked doors, and come to help him. Sometimes Cas forgot he wasn't an angel anymore, and came over all 'you will not harm Dean Winchester'. His slow advance and death glare had distracted Blondie long enough for Dean to throw her off balance and cuff her to a shelf with the handcuffs he had stolen from the underground lair.

Sam and Casey had been in full on Fight Club mode. It would have been awesome to watch if they hadn't been in a hurry to deal with an angry spirit somehow involved in an arms deal being mediated through a video game about them. And if Sammy hadn't been dripping blood everywhere from a little hole in his side. Dean pushed Sam out of the way, and tackled Casey, knocking him into a shelf. Plastic CD cases rained over them. There was a thud as Casey's head hit metal, and his eyes glazed over slightly. Dean left him to make his way unsteadily to his feet, wishing they had stolen another pair of cuffs to keep him there while they found a way out.

Sam and Cas had caught up with him near the exit, and suddenly, miraculously, the glass doors slid open. As they passed through the doorway, Dean looked up. There, grinning like a fool, fingers on keypad, was the little bearded guy. Dean was warming to him by the minute.

At the Impala, Sam said: "It seemed like she was controlling it. It certainly tried to protect her. She must be some kind of witch, because it didn't seem to have any connection to the building. I don't think there'll be any body parts to burn." He taped a thick pad of gauze tightly over his wound then grabbed an iron bar in one hand and a shot gun loaded with salt rounds with the other.

"There must be something in the building though, somewhere she called it with a ritual," said Dean, "it sounded like she worked for an arms dealer that got killed. She probably called him to get the info to pass on, and protect her at the same time. We'll just have to find the stuff she used and do a counter ritual."

Dean slammed the trunk and locked it. He snapped the barrel of his shotgun in place. "Mount up, boys."

Cas looked like he didn't quite understand, but he followed anyway. They made their way around the side of the big building. They had learnt from experience that it is never a good idea to barge through the front door of a convention carrying shotguns, especially with law enforcement on their arses.

Inside the building, a woman screamed.

XXXXXXX

The Russian woman laughed as Chuck's colleagues took off after the Winchesters and their angel. Not a loud, evil mastermind laugh, but the quiet chuckle of someone who couldn't believe her luck and clearly thought they were all incompetent.

"What is your relationship to the Winchesters?" Chuck asked, pretending not to be alarmed at the crashing coming from upstairs.

The woman laughed. "We didn't think they'd actually come," she said. Chuck just looked at her for a moment, trying to figure her out. It wasn't happening. He felt out of his depth, and snapped another set of cuffs on her, just in case.

"What do they have to do with this?" He asked. "Why the game? How are you using it to pass information?"

There was a particularly loud crash from upstairs, along with a persistent banging that sounded a lot like Jeff's attempts to break out of the store using a display cabinet that day they had forgotten to check for his hipflask.

"You don't get it, do you?" The woman asked with a smirk. "This was never about the weapons. They are just a lucrative side venture. No, this is about the Winchesters."

Upstairs, all was suddenly disturbingly quiet.

XXXXXXXXX


	8. Chapter 8

Upstairs, Casey was swearing violently. Chuck took that to mean that either the prisoners had escaped the BuyMore, or Morgan had decided to help. Probably both. He heard Sarah say something, and let out the breath he was holding. Sarah was OK. He continued his interrogation.

"What do you mean it's about the Winchesters?" he asked.

She seemed talkative, now, pleased with herself, like a plan was falling into place.

"It's always about the Winchesters," she replied.

Chuck waited.

"We had big plans, you know. When the apocalypse was over and Lucifer ruled the earth, we were going to be beside him, basking in his glory. We were going to be rich beyond our wildest dreams and all humanity would bow before us! And blood and fire would rain down upon the earth and fear and chaos would reign. Lucifer was going to _reward_ us! But the Winchesters and their pet angel ruined everything! And now they are going to pay."

Chuck's mind was reeling. Did she say the apocalypse? _Lucifer?_ Suddenly he was having trouble breathing.

"The apocalypse? Lucifer?" he said shakily.

"Think about it, Chuck."

Chuck thought about it. This was like being in an episode of Buffy. Only without an awesome blonde vampire slayer with super strength. Or a watcher. Or a witch to cast spells on the demons. Although the Winchester boys seemed to be quite good at fighting. And Trench coat seemed to genuinely believe he was an angel. Wait, apocalypses didn't really happen. This was real life, not TV.

"I don't believe you," he said, "Why are you really using the Winchesters for your arms deal?"

The handcuffed woman looked at him incredulously. "Did you watch the news at all last year? Or did you just think raining blood, mutilated cattle and the entire population of several small countries suddenly dropping dead was normal? I thought you were in charge of national security."

Raining blood. Oh gross, that's why the rain had been that disturbing red colour that day. _Crap!_ The apocalypse. He shivered.

"But it's over now? How did the Winchester's ruin it? Obviously Lucifer didn't win." Chuck couldn't believe he was saying this.

Upstairs, everything was quiet.

"They locked Lucifer back in his cage, Michael too. Nobody won the war. And now we have lost our chance for greatness and our reward. But there is something we can do. We can destroy the Winchesters. The size of the bounty will slightly ease the pain of losing our King. And the war that comes from the arms deal – that will be beautiful to watch. And all the Winchesters' meddling will be for nothing. But mostly, we want to watch them suffer."

A sudden realisation hit Chuck. This was a trap. He really should have realised sooner. She probably had dozens of allies at the game launch, just waiting to ambush the Winchesters, and anyone who followed them. _Crap. Sarah. Morgan. Casey._

"What are you going to do?" he asked. Thankfully she seemed to enjoy telling him all about the big plans.

She smiled. "We're going to kill them all. Every one of those pathetic little gaming nerds in the building." Chuck bristled slightly at the description. She continued: "Then we're going to torture Dean's precious little angel, and make Dean watch. And then little Sammy, who would have made such a wonderful general in hell. And then we're going to torture Dean. And leave him alive."

Chuck checked her cuffs and locked her in the holding cell. He pulled on a bulletproof vest and a weapons belt. Grabbing his cell phone, he pressed the speed dial for Sarah as he left castle.

XXXXXXXXX

Morgan watched wide-eyed from behind a car as the Winchesters and Castiel loaded up on weapons. Dean had a knife in an ankle sheath, another at the waist, a handgun in the small of his back, a sawn-off shotgun in his right hand, and what looked like a pointy iron bar in his left. And a hipflask in his pocket. Morgan was a little dubious about the benefits of whisky around all those weapons, but it seemed like the Winchesters knew what they were doing. Sam had patched up his wound. He had at least as many weapons as Dean. Castiel seemed to just have a shotgun. Morgan supposed angels didn't need weapons. Although Castiel was not exactly how he had imagined angels.

A sudden horrific thought occurred to Morgan. What if he was wrong and they were going in to kill everyone? They certainly looked like they could.

But then the girl screamed inside the building, and the Winchesters and Castiel took off at a run towards the sound. _Definitely the good guys_, thought Morgan. He ducked out from behind the car and followed them.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Sam didn't like this. They were running into a building without a real plan, or any definite knowledge about what they were up again. If he'd had his way, they would have spent at least a day researching before going in. But you couldn't do that when the CIA was on your tail, and anyway, Dean had gone all hero-complex again. There was no stopping Dean when he got that look. All you could do was follow him in and cover his back.

There was an alleyway behind the building, with poor lighting and trash strewn everywhere. The back door opened out in to it. It had no security, but was locked. Sam knelt to pick the lock, studiously ignoring his brother's impatient bouncing. You couldn't rush a lock-picking; it just made you mess up. Finally, there was a click. Sam tried the door. It swung open easily.

Sam held Dean back to stop him rushing through. That had been too easy. There was trap written all over this. How often did screaming girls actually turn out to be screaming girls? Not very often. He stepped through cautiously, gun raised. The girl screamed again.

"Hurry up, Sam," Dean growled, rushing in the direction of the renewed cries. Sam threw caution to the wind. That did sound like the girl was in real trouble. They ran down the corridor. Dean kicked open the door to the room that was the source of the screams.

Inside, a very solid, non-ghostly man was holding Becky by the throat.

XXXXXXXX


	9. Chapter 9

It was a trap, Dean realised, as the door closed behind them. Men were emerging from the corners of the room, taking up positions. Surrounding them. Damn, he hated it when Sam was right. The man squeezing Becky's throat was large and solid. He was wearing a black suit and sunglasses, like the guys in Men in Black. All the guys surrounding them had been at the gaming launch. How could he not have noticed a crapload of demons earlier? He rocked forward onto the balls of his feet, lowering himself into a fighting stance. He aimed his gun at the guy holding Becky.

"Put her down."

The men surrounding them rushed in, black eyes shining. Holy crap it was disturbing being attacked by a dozen people dressed up as you.

Dean shot two demons full of rock salt in quick succession. It wouldn't kill them, but it would knock them back long enough for him to kick their buddy's ass. Through the mass of flying limbs, he saw Becky kick the suited one in the groin. Good for her. Pity it wouldn't work. He began to fight his way toward her, but a demon grabbed him from behind, and he had to turn around and punch it.

"Sam!" He yelled, pointing to Becky. Sam went over to help her.

Cas had his sword out and was kicking some serious demon ass, but it was six on one, and Dean knew he couldn't hold on much longer. He threw his demon into another, knocking them both down, and went to help Cas. No-one screws with Dean's angel.

XXXXXXXXX

Sam thrust Ruby's knife into the suited one's back, and tried to ignore the smell of the blood. He'd been clean since that awful day famine had got the better of him, but it was still a struggle. Becky dropped to the ground, gasping, but there was no time to check if she was OK, because three 'Sam's and a 'Dean' were upon him. He kicked and punched and thrust his knife, and screamed at Becky to run, but still they kept coming, backing him into the wall.

Then suddenly one of them went flying, and there was the grumpy secret agent, fighting beside him. Hell, he had some good moves. And a nice gun. Pity they couldn't kill a demon. And the female agent was passing Becky off to Morgan, who was half-carrying her out, with surprising bravery and strength, and an expression lost somewhere between terror and excitement.

Sam was distracted for a moment as a demon landed a solid blow to his chest. Something gave slightly, and a sharp pain burst through his chest. Oh yeah, that had broken a rib. When he looked up, the two spies were focussing all their training on fending off the super strong demons that just kept coming, and across the room, Morgan and Becky were pinned halfway up the wall.

XXXXXXXXX

Morgan heard the attack from outside the room, and realised something was going terribly wrong for the Winchesters. Casey and Sarah had made him swear that he would never go in without them, but he thought that tonight's 'listening to instructions' horse had probably bolted when he let the Winchesters out of the BuyMore. He knew he wasn't the best fighter, but Casey had been working with him, and maybe he could just distract the attackers for a few minutes and buy the Winchesters some time. He couldn't just listen to an ambush and not do anything. The girl had stopped screaming, and he wasn't entirely sure that was a good thing. So he pressed the button on his radio, told Casey he was going in, and turned it off before Casey could say anything. And he went in.

It was scarier than he had anticipated. There were at least fifteen people fighting the Winchesters. Sam had a knife, and was standing over the girl, fighting off four guys. Dean and Castiel were fighting back to back against a constant stream of attackers, and that was just as awesome. Castiel had a freakin' _sword._

Morgan began to edge his way around the edge his way around the wall, towards the girl, who was scrambling out from underfoot. One of the bad guys stopped and looked at him. His eyes were pure black. Morgan froze, and all he could think was _holy crap, demons are real_. And then _Oh my God I'm going to die!_

The door flew open. Morgan had never been so glad to see Sarah and Casey in his life.

The demon was distracted by their entrance. Morgan took the opportunity to continue edging his way along the wall. When he finally reached the girl, Sarah and Casey were there too, and Casey was helping Sam.

Morgan took the girl from Sarah, and she returned to the fight as he helped the girl up and half ran with her, half dragged her in the direction of the door.

They nearly made it too. But they didn't.

A powerful, invisible force flung Morgan against the wall, and held him there by the throat. His feet dangled two feet from the floor, and he could not move. It felt as though hands were squeezing his throat, strangling him, and he struggled for air as he surveyed the surreal scene before him.

The demon that had looked at him before was standing in front of him, holding him against the wall with magic, his arm extended in front of him, hand squeezing.

And suddenly Dean was there, diving and tackling the demon, punching and kicking and yelling something in Latin. The demon's grip upon Morgan faltered and slipped, then recovered. Something weird was happening to its head, like it couldn't quite control it. And then a cloud of black smoke flew from the demon and disappeared through the floor. Morgan fell to the floor, and the girl fell beside him.

A tide of demons swallowed Dean.

XXXXXXXX

Castiel saw Dean fall, and forgot he was no longer an angel. He felt the glory of his father rise up within him and the faith of the righteous in his heart. This was wrong. Dean Winchester was the saviour of humanity. He would not be taken.

"YOU WILL NOT HARM DEAN WINCHESTER!" He thundered. A slight wind seemed to ruffle his hair. And then he added: "Go to hell. Bitches." Because it was one of his favourite things to say, and flicked his hand, like he had before he had fallen. A mass of black smoke streamed from the mouths of the vessels, and disappeared back to where it belonged.

"Holy crap, Cas! You totally just angelled out," Dean said. He looked astonished. But not as astonished as Cas felt.

XXXXXXXX

As Chuck closed the door to Castle, the prisoner laughed. Chuck opened the door again to see why, and was hit in the face by a blast of black smoke.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone! I'm not too sure about Sarah's POV in this chapter, I find her hard to write, but I hope it's OK and you enjoy it. Oh, and huge cliffie at the end, because I am evil.**

A sudden silence descended over the room, followed by the thudding of twelve men collapsing unconscious to the floor.

"What just happened?" Sarah asked, as the man she was fighting fell away from her, the last of the black smoke leaving his mouth and disappearing through the floor. For a second, as she had glanced across the room just before the smoke, the shadows of giant wings had seemed to flash across the wall behind Castiel.

The Winchesters and their friend seemed just as dumbfounded as she was. Sarah found that less than encouraging, because something monumentally strange was going on, and she'd kind of hoped they knew what they were doing.

Sam broke the silence, saying: "What happened? I thought you weren't an angel anymore, Cas."

"I forgot," Castiel replied solemnly, and Dean started to laugh.

"This is awesome," he said, but then his smile faltered almost imperceptibly as he realised something. Sarah probably wouldn't have noticed if she hadn't been trained in lie detection.

Then Dean said, "Does this mean you're leaving?"

Sarah could tell it was meant to be casual and nonchalant, but it came out small and slightly broken, and it made her heart ache a little bit.

"Could we continue this beautiful moment later on?" Casey growled, "We've still got an arms dealer to catch."

Sarah never failed to be amazed by his single minded ability to focus on the job, particularly when Chuck was not in the room. Chuck seemed to impair Casey's ability to concentrate.

Sam seemed to suddenly remember something, and exclaimed something that sounded a lot like "Oh Crap! The ghost!"

Sarah looked at him, tearing her eyes away from watching Cas try to have a silent conversation with Dean, and Dean steadfastly refusing to meet his eyes.

"What is going on?" She asked Sam, but he didn't reply, because he was mumbling something about ghosts and witches and demons all being in the same place, and it not being a coincidence. The really scary part was that Sarah was starting to think that he wasn't crazy. If Cas was really an angel, then apparently the people they had been fighting were really demons. She was very glad she hadn't known that at the time.

"Dean," Sam said gently. It seemed to rile his brother, who glared at him, but began to take action again.

"You two stay here," he told Sarah and Casey. "They'll be waking up soon, and they'll need help. Some of them are injured. Don't worry, the demons are gone. If another one comes, splash it with holy water and say this –" Sam handed Sarah a flask and scribbled something in Latin on a page he tore out of a notebook. Sarah couldn't help thinking that he must have deceptively large pockets.

Sam, Dean and the angel of the Lord left the room. As they closed the door behind them, Sarah heard Dean say: "A demon-possessed arms-dealing witch raised a murderous spirit from the dead. This should be fun."

Casey left, too, carrying Morgan back to Castle for some first aid, and Sarah was alone in the room with twelve recently-possessed unconscious men, many of whom were starting to stir.

She was checking the pulse of a tall man wearing a cheap and new-looking imitation of Sam's outfit, when the door opened. She spun around, gun raised, before remembering it wouldn't work on a demon.

Chuck stood in the doorway, in full bulletproof vest and raiding gear. He grinned when he saw her, and she lowered her gun. She smiled back, relieved he was ok. But as he rushed over to her, something didn't seem quite right.

She realised why when he lifted his gun to her head.

XXXXXXXX

Chuck couldn't control his body. The black smoke had slammed into him somehow, and now it was inside him, making him do things he didn't want to. It tossed his phone to the ground and stepped on it, crunching it to tiny pieces with his combat boot before Sarah could answer.

"_Sarah,"_ it said, inside his head, "_yes, that's a good place to start. She's a pretty one. I bet she'll try to fight, too. It's always more fun when they fight."_

_No, thought_ Chuck, _please no, not Sarah._ But he felt its amusement, and heard it laugh with his voice as it checked the clip of his gun and slotted it back together decisively. Chuck saw with horror that there were real bullets in there, and cursed himself for not replacing the gun with a tranq before he left.

It didn't bother to open the door of the BuyMore, just smashed it with a flick of his hand, sending shards of glass cascading across the parking lot. Chuck felt a slight jolt of satisfaction when he realised the silent alarm must have been triggered.

_"Be careful what you wish for, Chuckles," _said the voice inside his head, "_Police, CIA, NSA, it's all just more people for us to kill. Humans are no match for us."_

_Then how did Dean and Sam ruin everything? _Chuck thought vindictively, trying not to think about the huge numbers of imminent deaths and failing miserably.

The demon did not reply for a moment, marching Chuck's body away from the BuyMore, toward Sarah's murder. Chuck twisted and struggled, and concentrated his whole soul on stopping walking. Turning around. He would not kill Sarah. He would not kill anyone. Chuck's footsteps faltered, and for a second he thought he might be winning, but then the blackness inside him took over once more and his feet carried him smoothly onwards.

_"Trying to escape, Chuck? Are you really that naive? Do you really think I can't see inside you? I know killing doesn't bother you as much as you pretend it does. You killed Shaw, and now you're glad he's dead. You hated him because he was with Sarah, didn't you?"_

_No, no, that's not how it was_, Chuck thought desperately. He hated killing. It made him sick, and he had nightmares about Shaw every night, seeing his bullet ripping into him, Shaw's body tumbling from the bridge.

_"Maybe it wasn't how it looked. Maybe Shaw really was a double agent, and he was on your side. Maybe no-one had to die that night." _

Chuck just kept thinking _no, no._ He passed Casey in the dark, and felt a rush of panic as he saw Morgan's unconscious body draped over his shoulder. Casey grunted at him, and Chuck felt his head nod in reply, and heard the darkness say with his voice: "Where's Sarah? Is she OK?"

Casey grunted again, nodding that she was unhurt, and pointed, then set off back to Castle, saying something about fixing Morgan up and coming back.

Chuck's body marched purposefully around the back of the building, loaded gun in hand, and pulled the door off its hinges.

The next door, it didn't pull off the hinges, but opened gently, quietly. Sarah was inside, checking the pulse of an unconscious man. The demon seemed shocked as it surveyed the twelve unconscious men, and its smug taunting stopped. Something had gone wrong with the plan. Chuck smiled with relief at seeing Sarah in one piece, and satisfaction that the demon's plan was going awry, and he felt his face move with it, in his control for that instant that the demon was distracted. Sarah lowered the gun she had raised when he entered.

But the demon reasserted its control too soon, and Chuck felt his face morph into an expression of false concern. Not that Chuck wasn't concerned, but the demon certainly wasn't worried about her. His body rushed over to her, and his voice asked worried questions about what had happened and if she was OK. Sarah seemed disconcerted, though, and did not answer them.

And then Chuck's hands raised his gun to her head.

XXXXXXXXX


	11. Chapter 11

Dean was distracted by Castiel's sudden re-angefying. That was his excuse for not realising what they'd missed earlier. It wasn't until they were in the midst of an epic battle with the _very _violent spirit of a murdered arms dealer that he remembered the chick in the cells. He'd thought she was human, and now would be kicking himself if he wasn't already having the hell kicked out of him, because really, how many times had it been a real human lately?

Sam had led them through the back rooms of the building, checking each room carefully for an altar of the black arts. In the second room, they found a panicking prophet of the Lord, looking for Becky. Dean made a mental note to kick his arse later for not checking that the person he sold their life to wasn't a murderous arms dealer with demonic connections. And also for not telling him about Cas. He restrained himself because of the unnerving shrieking that was emanating from the room next door, and settled for pointing Chuck in the right direction. He figured the spies could use some help, anyway. _Spies... _that was kind of awesome.

They ran next door, and there in the corner, stood an altar with a blood spell on it. In front of it, the ghost held a man dressed as Dean by the heart, its hand inside his chest, and was squeezing. The man's eyes were black, and it was begging. Dean hadn't seen a demon in that much pain since Alastair.

They couldn't exorcise the demon first, because that would kill the vessel. The spirit had to go first, and that meant a counter-spell. Dean looked at Sam. Sam inclined his head toward the altar. _I'll do it. _Sam started inching his way around the wall to the altar.

Dean looked at Cas, for the first time since Cas's mojo had made its reappearance, and Dean had realised he would probably be leaving. Cas was all business, and Dean was glad of it. _I'll distract it, you exorcise the demon when it's free, _he indicated. Cas nodded.

Dean fired a salt round into the spirit's head. It reacted.

The spirit's hand was free, and Cas was flicking the demon back to hell in less than a second. The spirit threw Dean with incredible strength, and as he flew across the room, he saw a slight wind ruffle the angel's coat and felt power rippling from him. In the back of his mind, as he hit the wall, he thought _Cas is going to leave. _All the air was forced from his lungs, but he did what he always does, and got up, pretending it didn't hurt. The ghost stood over him, and he stabbed at it with the iron bar. It flickered and disappeared for a second, reappearing a few feet to the left.

The floor began to shake slightly, and that was when Dean remembered the chick in the cells. The ghost had been protecting her. It kind of seemed like she was in charge. _Crap!_

"Cas," he yelled, as the spirit came at him again, "The room we came from!"

Castiel disappeared.

XXXXXXX

Chuck would not kill Sarah. He was fighting with his whole soul, refusing to pull the trigger. The demon was fighting back, talking to him, trying to force his finger to move. He couldn't move the gun. It was pointing straight between Sarah's eyes, and he couldn't move it. It was all he could do to stop his finger, and he didn't think he could do that much longer.

_Really, Chuck, you think you can beat me? You're not even a proper spy. Not like Sarah and Casey. They just let you tag along because of the flashes. Sarah doesn't love you, Chuck. She's too good for you. Remember Bryce? She actually did love him. She would have gone with him, too. She only stayed with you out of obligation. She thinks you're pathetic. Do it, Chuck. Pull the trigger._

Chuck's finger twitched, but he stopped it. _She does love me, _he thought, _and I love her. We're happy. _ The gun did not fire, but Chuck felt a panicky feeling rise in his chest. He wasn't a killer. He would not pull the trigger. But what if the demon did?

_This is silly, Chuck. Why fight it? You're a freak who works in a BuyMore. You're not a real spy. Sarah's never going to forgive you for holding a gun on her. If you don't do this, we're going to find your family and kill them all. Say good-bye to Ellie, Chuck. Say good-bye to Daddy, and Awesome, and Morgan..._

And then it all happened at once. The door opened, and Casey's voice told him calmly to lower the gun. Sarah threw something from a hipflask all over his face. It didn't hurt him, but he could feel the demon writhing inside him, and could see smoke rising from his skin. He took the opportunity to throw the gun as far across the room as he could, while the demon was distracted.

The demon didn't like that. It grabbed Sarah by the throat, and held her against the wall. It was scarily strong, but Sarah was nothing if not a fighter. When her knee met his groin, he felt a little proud, through the haze of pain.

Then Casey was behind him, twisting his arm, but the demon tossed him off. It lost its grip on Sarah's throat, though, and Sarah began to choke out words. It sounded like Latin, and it was doing something to the demon, weakening its grip on Chuck.

Chuck took advantage of that to throw all his remaining weapons across the room. In hindsight, he thought that maybe he shouldn't have thrown the smoke bomb, but the thought didn't occur to him at the time.

The smoke obscured his vision. Two figures loomed beside him. Chuck coughed. He could feel the demon regaining his grip, and realised that Sarah had been reading an exorcism, and could not longer see the words. _Crap. Exorcisms- what do they always say in movies? The power of Christ compels you! Leave! The power of Christ compels you!_

The door opened again, and Chuck heard through his internal battle and the thumps of Casey and Sarah hitting him, a voice say: "Becky? Are you in here? Did you light a fire so the Winchesters would save you again?"

It distracted Chuck from his repetition, and the demon flung off Casey and Sarah, turning toward the voice. Chuck's body began to stalk across the room toward it.

The building began to shake, and a high pitched noise shattered the windows.

The newcomer, an indistinct shadow through the smoke was shouting something about arch-angels, and Chuck was pretty sure his ears were bleeding. Sarah and Casey were both lying on the floor with their hands over their ears.

As the demon walked Chuck's body across the room, the sound got louder, shriller. He put his hands up to his ears – the demon seemed weaker, and couldn't fight him. And then he stopped. Trench Coat stood in his way. And he had a sword.

As it turned out, Trench Coat didn't even need the sword. All he did was wave his hand and the darkness flowed out of him, disappearing through the floor. The noise stopped. Through the clearing smoke, for a second it looked like Trench Coat had wings.

XXXXXXXXX 


	12. Chapter 12

Sam was almost at the altar when Cas disappeared. The spirit was beating the crap out of Dean, and Sam had to make a decision – help Dean, or try to figure out the counter-spell. He saw Dean swing the iron bar through it, and decided to continue to the altar. It would be better to get rid of it forever. Dean could take care of himself, even if he was acting a little weird since the whole Cas is an angel after all thing.

On the makeshift altar there was a goblet of blood – it worried Sam a little that it no longer fazed him when he saw things like that. Not demon blood. Human probably. Dark magic was full of human sacrifices. There was a red candle, burned to a stump, the wax melted into strange shapes on the table. A small dish of various herbs sat beside it. Sam tried to remember what Ruby had told him about the summoning of dark spirits. She may have turned out to be an evil bitch, but she had known some useful stuff. He pulled out a lighter and touched the flame to the candle wick, reciting the reversal incantation she had taught him.

The spirit heard him.

The room sudden got even colder. Ice spread across the floor, the walls, the altar. It crept up the candle, threatening to extinguish it. Sam began to recite faster. He heard Dean yell something, but could understand the words. And then there was a sharp, freezing pain in his back, and something was squeezing his lungs. It took all he could do to breathe, and his incantation faltered and stopped as he wheezed. It reminded him of the time Zachariah had removed him lungs, and his heart began to beat faster and his hands began to shake. Panicked thoughts of death and hell raced through his head. Surely you went to hell for setting Lucifer free and defying the angels – that time when they had been shot was a trick to get them to agree. Then Dean's voice said something that he couldn't make out through the haze of oxygen deprivation, and an iron bar whistled past his head. The squeezing disappeared, and he collapsed, taking deep breaths of sweet, sweet air.

"The spell, Sammy! I'll hold him off," Dean called as he spun around to where the ghost reappeared.

Sam pulled himself up, and poured the dish of herbs over the flickering candle flame as he breathlessly continued the incantation. There was a loud crash as Dean hit the opposite wall again, and Sam stuttered slightly over the words, but Dean's voice was soon mocking once more, drawing the ghost away from Sam. There was a scrambling as Sam poured the blood in a circle around the candle, and then a shotgun blast. He yelled the last words of the spell, and there was a roar and a rush of intense heat as the altar went up in flames.

Across the room, the ghost burnt out of existence.

Dean, who was slumped against the wall with his shotgun in his hands, said, "Nice, Sammy."

The building shuddered, and the angels began to speak.

XXXXXXXXX

As the smoke cleared, the room became quiet once more. Sarah saw Chuck sway, and knew that the demon was gone. She rushed over to catch him before he fell. But even as she held him in her arms, proud of him for fighting and sad because she thought it must be horrible to have something evil use your body as a puppet, she couldn't stop the thoughts that floated across the back of her mind. The ones that said _he held a gun on you. He was going to shoot you. What if a little piece of him wanted to? _But she pushed them away, because it was Chuck.

One of the unconscious no-longer-possessed stirred, and asked confusedly, "What happened? I couldn't..." He trailed off and slumped back to the floor.

The others began to move as well, except for the one in the black suit, and one that lay in the back corner. They were dead.

The fire alarm began to blare, and Sarah heard the building being evacuated.

She sat Chuck on the floor, and held him close, her ears still ringing from the intense noise that had forced her to the floor.

The unknown man that had entered in the smoke stood from where he was kneeling beside a girl, turned to Castiel, and said uncertainly: "So, are you an archangel now? Because I didn't see that coming."

"I am not sure," said Castiel. He looked tired, and lost, and much, much less terrifying than he had seemed a few moments ago. "I must pray," he said, and disappeared.

"Who are you guys?" said the newcomer, as if it was totally normal for people to disappear out of thin air, but worrying that there were people he didn't know there.

"Who are you?" Casey growled. He looked displeased. There was blood running from his ears. "You better start explaining."

"I write the Supernatural books. Chuck." He extended his hand, seeming unsure what to do.

The door opened, and in rushed Sam and Dean Winchester.

"Is everything OK? The spirit's gone, we're sorry we had to leave. We'll explain everything now. Chuck, what are you doing here?" Sam said in a rush.

Dean just looked around the room with narrowed eyes and said, "Where's Cas?"

"He said he had to pray and disappeared," the author replied.

Sarah saw Dean slump a little. Then she watched in astonishment as he turned on the author and started yelling. Maybe the reports had been right when they had said he wasn't stable.

"Did you know this would happen?" Dean demanded, advancing on the author. The author backed away, shaking his head. Sam was there too, saying Dean's name placatingly, but glaring at the author with a threat in his eye. Sarah moved Chuck a little further away, and stepped forward, ready to separate the men.

"Did you know? Because you know this looks a lot like a trap, man! You sold us out!" Dean took another step forward, looming over Chuck.

Chuck stammered: "I-I didn't know, I swear," and brought his arms up to cover his face.

"You're a prophet of the freakin' Lord, dude! How could you not know?"

"I haven't been seeing much lately, not since the apocalypse ended!" The prophet of the Lord squeaked, as Sam pulled Dean away.

Dean deflated slightly. "Did you know about Cas? Is he going back upstairs?" he asked quietly.

"I don't know, man. I didn't see that coming at all!"

Dean slammed out of the room.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and then Sam turned to Sarah and Casey, and said: "Questions?"

XXXXXX


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: And now, a talky chapter.**

Castiel told them that he had to pray, but what he really had to do was think. He flew from the room onto the roof of the building, and felt the freedom that it gave him to move that fast, without the confinement of the car. He sat on the tiled roof and gazed skyward, feeling the warmth of his grace and his father's love. It felt wonderful. All the pain and emptiness he had felt when he had rebelled and been cast out left him. He remembered what it was like to be an angel again. But then a cold gust of wind shook him from his thoughts, and he realised he was tired. Exhausted. The light was leaving him. He had barely got his grace back, and he had drained it all at once. He pulled his trench coat tighter around him.

Inside, the fire alarm was ordering an evacuation. Castiel watched a stream of people exit the building. Now was usually when he and the Winchesters left a place.

He missed heaven. It was a constant ache. He missed the warmth and love he had briefly rediscovered, and he missed the comfort of following orders, and the absolute conviction that that his actions were righteous. But he also liked life on earth. He liked humanity. He liked freewill. He enjoyed working with the Winchesters in their fight against evil, and much as his work for heaven had been satisfying, he could not say he had really enjoyed smiting sinners. But God had seen fit to give him another chance, and he was obligated to return to him and his purpose. He must pray.

But then there was Dean. Both the Winchesters, Bobby too, were important. They had destroyed Lucifer and prevented great bloodshed. They had never given up in their determination to maintain freewill on earth. They were to be admired, and deserved to be rewarded. But they hadn't been.

They treated him well. Dean said he was one of the family, now, and Cas knew how seriously Dean took family. He'd miss Dean, if he left. He'd feel uncomfortable, leaving him alone, unprotected. And he'd seen Dean's face when he'd asked if he was leaving. Dean didn't want him to go. He would never say it, though.

A noise distracted Cas from his thoughts, and he looked across the roof to see Dean pull himself up. He knew then that if Dean asked him to stay, he would.

XXXXXX

Dean was angry at Chuck. It really did look like he'd sold them out. How could he not have known? Not to mention the whole selling their lives for nerds to live through them in a video game. Didn't these people have anything better to do? He cooled down quickly, though, distracted by the tiny, slightly hysterical voice in his head that kept saying _Cas is leaving, Cas is leaving. Everybody leaves in the end._

As he left the building, he spotted the angel sitting on the roof, looking at the stars. He couldn't see his face, because of the darkness, but he didn't look like he was praying. Dean didn't know whether to be relieved or not. Did this mean Cas was putting it off, or was it already decided when he was leaving? He tugged at a drainpipe, making sure it would hold his weight, and then began to climb it.

Cas looked at Dean as he approached, and Dean couldn't read his expression. It was suddenly like the past two years had been erased, and they were strangers who didn't quite know how to behave around each other.

Dean sat next to his angel. "When are you leaving?" he asked.

"Do you want me to leave?" Cas asked him.

_No. _"This is what you've been praying for, isn't it? Maybe you can come help us out sometimes." He'd thought it was what Cas wanted him to say. Cas had been inconsolable when he fell, and the sudden return of his grace would return him to where he deserved to be. Cas would be whole again. But Cas turned his head away, and wouldn't look at him.

"You do not wish me to stay."

Dean knew he'd said the wrong thing then. Neither said anything for a moment. Dean was suddenly secure in the knowledge (if slightly disturbed by it) that Cas would stay if he asked him to. _Cas did not want to leave._ Not completely.

He looked at his friend, who was gazing solidly at a patch of moss.

"Dude, are you sulking because I didn't ask you to stay?"

He got a lip twitch out of that, but no eye contact. He grinned and looked up at the sky. He was sitting on a rooftop, looking at the stars, with a sulking angel of the Lord at his side. Life was awesome.

XXXXXXX

It was just like Dean to leave him with the cleaning up. Not to mention the extremely confused government agents, one of whom looked very angry, an upset semi-alcoholic prophet, his scary girlfriend, and about a dozen stirring ex-possessed. He sort of understood, though. Cas was, after all, Dean's only friend, and there was a special relationship between a man and his angel.

"What just happened?" Sarah asked.

"I'm pretty sure I was possessed by a cloud of black smoke," Chuck piped up, "and the arms dealer we caught kept talking about the apocalypse and how they were getting revenge by killing everyone..."

"Was that Castiel? He's way cuter that I expected," gushed Becky, from where she sat propped against the wall.

"Where were you trained? You'd make a good field agent," Casey told him begrudgingly.

Sam had to admit it was pretty cool that he'd been handpicked for the CIA, even if he would have been pissed about it at the time.

"Was that guy an angel?" asked one of the Deans, sitting up.

Sam picked the easiest question first. "My Dad trained us. He was in the marines."

Seeing that the majority of people seemed less than satisfied with this reply, he said, "Look, we don't have time for the big _the truth is out there_ speech, because the fire brigade and probably the police are going to be here soon and we need to clear up, but all these people were possessed by demons who wanted revenge on us for defeating Lucifer and stopping the apocalypse. Cas is an angel. He rebelled because most of the angels were... not what you would like to believe they are. And because Dean yelled at him 'til he helped us. We thought he'd fallen, but apparently not."

They took it surprisingly well.

Casey said: "Can we hurry this up? We've got an arms deal to stop, and this room stinks of rotten eggs."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I had terrible writers block, which is why this took a bit longer than usual. Hopefully the next chapter will be quicker.**

They hid the bodies in a special bunker that belonged to the CIA. Sam was slightly disturbed by this. It was set up like a real morgue, complete with refrigeration. How often did the BuyMore spies kill people? Enough to need a special bunker for storage? Apparently they would be collected for identification and autopsy shortly. Both Chucks and Casey headed out the front to control the dispersing crowd and try to prevent anyone escaping with a copy of the encoded game. Sarah told Chuck to see if he "flashed" on anything. Sam supposed she must be talking about the visions Chuck seemed to have when he looked at people. He was curious about it, but didn't ask because it seemed like it might be rude, and he couldn't use false authority to find out what he wanted to know because they knew he wasn't an FBI agent.

Sam and Sarah shepherded the exorcised across the road and shut them in the home entertainment room to wait for questioning. Leaving them there, with snacks and drinks appropriated from the vending machines, Sam and Sarah went back into Castle.

"Thank God!" said Morgan. The prisoner's head lolled.

"What's going on, Morgan?" Sarah asked him suspiciously.

"I woke up and she was doing this freaky chanting so I shot her with the tranq gun again. Only she just pulled it out and kept chanting. I had to shoot her twice more before she was knocked out! I'm pretty sure she's a witch." Sam noticed five more tranq darts littering the floor and poking out of the wall behind her, as well as the three that were still in her. He was glad he hadn't been in the room. He was also glad Morgan wasn't allowed a real gun.

"What happened when she started chanting?"

"My shirt caught on fire." Ahh. Now that he mentioned it, Morgan was looking a little charred, and a panicking Morgan trying to put out a flaming shirt explained the overturned chairs. Maybe he hadn't done so badly after all. It was hard to aim when you were on fire.

"Maybe we should gag her," Sam suggested.

Sarah did. She checked the cuffs again, and locked her in the cell to be interviewed when she recovered consciousness. Sam was a little concerned about the practicality of interrogating someone whose gag couldn't be removed for fear of fire, but Sarah insisted it would have to be done.

As they walked up the stairs to begin the questioning of the Sams and Deans, Sarah asked the question.

"How did the apocalypse start?"

XXXXXXXX

Sam flinched a little at her question and tried to distract her by asking about Chuck's flashes.

Helpfully, Morgan told her enthusiastically: "Sam was chosen to lead a demon army in their siege on the earth and a demon killed his Mom and bled into his mouth so he has demon blood, and this other psychic guy stabbed him at Cold Oak but Dean made a deal with a demon to bring Sam back in return for Dean's soul, and then Dean went to hell and Sam went nuts and started sleeping with a demon called Ruby."

Sarah watched Sam as Morgan spoke. He wouldn't look at them. Morgan took a breath and continued: "And the angel Castiel saved Dean from hell but he'd already shed blood and broken the first seal that held Lucifer in hell. Then a whole lot of other seals got broken and Sam got addicted to demon blood-"

"So what do we ask them?" Sam broke in.

Sarah heard herself answer automatically. All she could think was _he drank blood. _Before, she had been frightened and shocked by the world she hadn't known existed, but she had been accepting because she had seen proof. But blood drinking? That was wrong.

Morgan seemed to realise he had said too much, and stopped speaking.

The entered the room in silence, before systematically questioning all the victims. Sarah kept her eye on Sam the entire time. He looked upset by the mention of blood drinking, and was gentle and businesslike with his questioning. He showed no signs of wanting to suck anyone dry. But still, although she had preferred Sam to his brother before now, she suddenly wished it was Dean that had come to help with the interviews. She was beginning to suspect Sam's deeply concerned and sympathetic expression was not quite genuine.

Most of the ex-possessed reported nothing except black smoke. One, however, had been awake during a conversation the demon possessing him had had on a cell phone. The code for releasing the weapons was hidden throughout the game, a section revealed at each level, meaningless to anyone who did not know about it. Payment had already occurred in the form of an electronic deposit into a foreign account. All that remained was for the game to be picked up.

XXXXXXX

Chuck privately thought it was a bit harsh to be put back to work so soon after being possessed by a demon and nearly killing his girlfriend. But, he supposed, at least it meant they still trusted him, and knew he hadn't wanted to hold a gun on Sarah. And they had no other intersect. He preferred to think it was the faith his friends and colleagues had in his morality, rather than necessity, that had him back in the field so soon, though.

He felt a little woozy as he scanned the crowd, waiting to flash. A fire engine and a police car screeched up at the same time, lights flashing. Casey said something to them, and the police flashed off after gamers who had wandered off down the street. The fire engine blocked the car park exit. Firemen rushed off to prevent people from leaving. It kind of seemed like a lost cause though. There was no way they could keep everyone in and stop someone escaping with the game, especially seeing as they didn't know who it would be.

Dean and Cas herded a group of people around from the rear of the building. They looked happier. Chuck hoped they had made up. He quite liked Dean now that he knew he was not a serial killer, and Castiel was an _angel._ It was quite romantic.

Chuck's eyes landed upon a member of the small crowd, and his mind was assaulted by images.


	15. Chapter 15

Sarah called in the new information to Casey as they returned to the interrogation room. Apparently Chuck had just had a flash, and they were surrounding a suspect as they spoke. Hopefully they had the right one this time.

In the underground facility, the captive was waking. She had wild eyes that were nearly as frightening as Chuck's had been when they had turned black. The gag was still in place, preventing any spell-casting. Sarah was thankful for that, although it did present a difficulty in interrogation. How do you get answers from someone without allowing them to speak?

The first idea was simply to have her write her answers down. That was a bust – she refused to touch the pen. In the end it took Morgan's loud expression of disappointment in Sam for not knowing the counter spells to give them the idea of connecting the wireless and looking up witchcraft on the internet. Sam pulled up – the A-Z of defensive witchcraft, for all your counter spell needs. He held it ready at the index.

Morgan stood over her with the tranq gun, just in case.

Sarah removed the gag. The witch began to chant. Sam's shirt caught fire. Apparently, she was not very imaginative. Obviously not the brains of the operation, then. Sam didn't seem to care that his shirt was on fire, calmly ignoring his blistering skin as he pulled up the counter spell and began to chant.

There was a lot of shouting, then, as the witch and Sam tried to drown one another out. Sarah wasn't sure who she was more frightened of – the witch with the crazed eyes who was bringing fire forth from nothing, making it spread from Sam to the furniture and walls, or Sam, huge, menacing, and part monster, screaming in Latin and apparently experiencing no pain from the fire that raged across his back and arms. She would not show her fear though, and calmly helped extinguish Morgan when he caught alight once more.

Suddenly, there was a roar, a rush of wind, and the fire flashed blue for an instant. And then it was out. Sam shrunk once more into a normal human with blistered arms and a slightly hurt expression, like someone had just eaten the cookie he was saving. The witch looked exhausted, drained, defeated.

"Fine," she said, "I'll answer your questions."

XXXXXXXXXXX

Across the road, it all happened very fast. The man Chuck flashed on was one Theodore Green. He was inconspicuous, with no identifying features. Average height, average weight, forgettable face. MIT dropout, with previous arrests on weapons charges and suspicion of conspiracy and terrorist activities, but no convictions.

When he realised he was surrounded, Theodore lashed out towards Chuck. Chuck had a kung-fu flash, and felled him with one blow to the neck. Chuck felt a bit better about having been possessed and nearly killing Sarah, then. Not much, though. But he had got the bad guy almost single-handedly. Castiel hadn't even had to use his mighty angelic power to apprehend him. He and Dean both looked a little disappointed at this, but Chuck didn't let it bother him.

Casey grunted approval as they searched the suspect for the game. In his ear, Sarah was confirming they had the right suspect this time. The witch over at Castle had completely rolled over and was talking like Chuck the Prophet's girlfriend Becky (who hadn't stopped talking about the Winchesters the entire time she'd been awake) on truth serum. In the background, Chuck could hear Morgan talking excitedly about spells and fire, and he was suddenly very glad he had not been involved in that particular interrogation.

They walked the handcuffed Theodore across the road to headquarters, Chuck and Casey on either side, Dean and Castiel bringing up the rear.

"Dude, that was awesome! Where did you learn that?" Dean exclaimed to Chuck.

Chuck grinned. Dean from Supernatural had just called him awesome! Wait till he told Morgan. Casey snorted derisively.

Castle was a mess. Morgan hadn't been joking about the fire. Great blackened scorch marks ran along the walls, and both Morgan and Sam were in burnt rags, while a lightly singed Sarah applied salve to their red, blistered skin.

"What did you do, Sammy? Sorry, I should have warned you not to let him near the oven."

"I'm no worse than you, Dean. How many times did you set fire to the kitchen growing up? Four?"

"One of those was totally not my fault. And you managed to cause three even though you cooked way less than me."

"Um... guys? What happened?" Chuck interrupted. It looked like the Winchesters could go on for hours when they got going. Plus, he really didn't want Morgan bringing up that time they had tried to making Thanksgiving dinner.

"There was a magic fight. The witch set us on fire, and Sam put us out using a spell from the internet. It was awesome!" Morgan told him. The Winchesters ignored him and kept arguing.

Chuck looked at Sarah, who looked up from her first aid and smiled at him. Chuck's insides shrivelled. What do you say to your girlfriend when you've just tried to kill her? She was pretending everything was ok, but he could tell from her eyes that it wasn't.

He smiled back. "Who's up for dinner with Ellie and Awesome?"

The Winchesters and Castiel politely declined. Sarah looked slightly relieved, and Morgan looked extremely disappointed. Sarah came, though, and Casey, when he had locked up the prisoners for later collection, and shaken hands with the Winchesters, handing Sam a card. By the time they had finished the paperwork and emerged from the underground facility, the Winchesters were gone. It was like they had never been there. Except for the burnt shell of a CIA base, the bodies in the bunker, and the dozen confused men locked in the home entertainment section.

XXXXXXXX

They signed into a motel just before midnight. Dean teased Sam endlessly for his CIA skills, and Sam looked smugly at the card Casey had given him. In case he ever needed a job, the NSA was always in need of field agents with skills like his. Castiel watched Dean fuss over Sam's burns for a few moments, then leaned back against the headboard as Dean pulled a DVD from his bag. Dean inserted the DVD into the laptop, and crawled up on the bed next to Cas as the opening music played.

Castiel sighed with contentment. Tomorrow he would seek revelation. Tonight, he would watch Star Wars with Dean.

**A/N: That's it, folks! Thanks for reading, and for all the reviews. Congratulations on making it all the way to the end. **


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